Wish Upon a Star
by akaoprah
Summary: In order to heal the past, Miranda Connolly takes several of her friends on the trip of their lives. A Danfic.
1. Prologue

PROLOGUE -

To this day, he can't open a door without remembering. Part of him still expects to slip through to surprise her, to stand stock still, to become paralyzed with shock. Part of him still expects to see her in the arms of another, betrayal in progress as he watches in agonizing disbelief. Part of him still believes that tears will begin to pour down his face, that he will lose his voice and gasp in indignation. Part of him imagines that his sputtering will give way to shouts made hoarse by the tears. Part of him still assumes that she will leap away, whisper that it isn't like he thinks, tell him she loves only him, then slowly hunch her shoulders and turn away from the guilt and shame he brings. Part of him knows that a close friend will walk through that horrible portal to see what the commotion is, soon realizing what has happened. Part of him knows that her partner in betrayal will kiss her softly and slip past him with twinkling, smirking eyes. Part of him knows that he will send her away in order to save her from the fists that are nearly murderous. Part of him believes that he will always cry himself to sleep as he did that night.

That part of him is always wrong, but it rules his life. He can't trust. He can't be free. He can't look at her anymore. He can't stand to see her eyes and her smile, knowing that he had everything and lost it in the blink of an eye.

Most of all, he can't let on to any of these things. He must keep them hidden, locked away inside of himself. They are private things that are his and his alone. They are his feelings, which he can mold and shape into sorrow and hatred. They destroy him, but he will not let them go. What does he have, besides the sorrow, the hatred, and the grief that eat him alive at every turn?

Oh, yes. He has fame.

What a comfort.


	2. Teenage Angst

CHAPTER ONE – Teenage Angst

"I hate you with a passion," Miranda Connolly told him calmly. "I hope you die a horrible death and rot in the depths for eternity. You are the worst kind of man the world has ever produced, and if you remain in my sight after 30 seconds, I will kick you in the teeth and jump on your stomach. Time starts now."

"What are you talking about? What did I do?!" The boy looked beseechingly at her, staring into the cold, blue eyes that were filled with revulsion.

"You have 22 seconds, and you know what you did, so there is no reason for me to explain a thing."

A deafening silence permeated the atmosphere of the run-down trailer the two stood in. Thin, dung brown carpet wrinkled on the floor, while a mayonnaise-colored paint was inexpertly applied to the walls. Clothes, trash, pet hair, dirty dishes, and other odds and ends were scattered about the tiny living space. The place was a dump, and either of the two would be glad to get out.

"I'll go, but I want to know what I did first!" The long brown hair that he proudly wore hung into his eyes, and he jerked a hand from his pocket to force it back from his scruffy face. His t-shirt was torn and stained, his socks had holes, and his shoes were buried near the door. He was a mess, and Miranda had no idea what Courtney had ever seen in this pathetic excuse for a human being.

"Did you think she wouldn't find out?" Arms folded, feet tapping on the floor, she stood a tower of strength. She was appropriately swathed head to toe in black, and she glared with a fury that belied her years. The young were not supposed to know of such rage, but no one had told Miranda Connolly this.

"Find out what?"

"Don't play dumb with me. You have 7 seconds."

"Miranda, this is my house! You can't just kick me out of my house for something that I didn't do! What in God's name has made you so mad?!"

Though the top of her head barely came up to his nose, he stepped back when she marched toward him, pointing a manicured finger in his face. "First, don't you ever mention God in front of me again; you aren't worthy to shine his shoes. Second, I happen to be so incredibly angry right now because you cheated on one of my best friends, a girl you claim to adore, without a backward glance. I have _never_ approved of her love for you, but I knew how strongly she felt about you, and I let it go. That was my mistake, and it will be corrected at this moment. I don't care if this is your pathetic, trashy house; you will leave right now because your time is up, and you know that I will gladly chop you up into little, bitty pieces and throw you in the blender for a smoothie. Now, get out of my sight, or I'll get out my machete."

His dung-colored eyes told her all that she needed to know. They grew murkier, guilty, and saddened by the words that she had uttered. "It's not like you think."

A sculpted eyebrow quirked up. "Oh, it's not?"

"I didn't... I mean..." His pale hands scratched the back of his head as he sighed in disgust. "It wasn't supposed to be like this! I never meant for this to happen!"

Miranda's blue eyes grew colder still, if that was possible. She was an ice princess, beautiful and deadly, ready to freeze him at a moment's notice. "Like it or not, it happened. Now get out of my sight."

"No, Miranda, please! I still love Courtney!"

"Of course you do. Cheating is such a wonderful means of expressing affection."

His eyes pleaded with her, begged her to listen. "Miranda, please..." When she stared at him, daring him to stay any longer, silently letting him know that she would be glad to break his body in two, he shuffled out the door, bent over like a crippled old man.

"Don't you ever come near her again!" Miranda called as she followed him to the door. He didn't look back. "Do you hear me?! You stay away from her!" She looked behind her in disgust at the squalor that was his home, slamming the door shut so forcefully that the rickety screen popped out of the door onto the porch.

Good riddance.

When Miranda drove up to her house in the sporty Porsche that she had received for her sixteenth birthday, she could hear the desperate sobbing from the open windows. Her high heels clacked briskly on the pavement as she hurried into the house and up the staircase, opening her bedroom door to one of the sorriest sights that she had ever seen.

Jeanette lay next to the prostrate, wailing Courtney, stroking her back and whispering words of comfort. Megan kneeled on the thick, ivory carpeting that graced the floor, next to the bed where Courtney shook. She looked up through an auburn veil of hair when Miranda entered; hand resting on Courtney's head, communicating with her soft, grey eyes that things were not going well.

"I guess asking how you guys are doing would be pointless."

Courtney's only answer was a keening wail that came from her stomach and escaped outward, like carbonation escapes your mouth after you gulp down a Pepsi. She moaned and groaned, brown hair matted with tears, face buried in the pink, down comforter.

"She's been like this since you left. She won't let up." Megan looked back down at her injured best friend. "I don't know what to do."

"Just let it out honey, just let it out..." Jeanette crooned into her ear. "Everything's going to be okay; you're going to feel so much better after you just let it out. C'mon, sweetie, just let it out..."

"I had words with the arrogant pig," said Miranda, gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap. She pushed a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "You should be glad to be rid of him, although I will admit that this way is a little harsh."

Courtney howled loudly in reply, and both Jeanette and Megan glared at their friend.

"Fine, fine, I won't say anything more."

"That would be appreciated," Megan replied dryly. "Why don't you go make some tea?" She looked down at Courtney, changing her voice to sound soothing. "Miranda's going to go make us some tea, sweetie. That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Courtney gave no sign of hearing Megan's words, weeping harshly instead.

Jeanette gave no mention of hearing Megan, either. She simply continued with her calming words, reminding everyone in the room of a mother comforting a sick child. "Everything's gonna be alright; everything's gonna be fine. It's okay, just let it out, sweetie, just let it out..." Her waist-length brown hair wrapped around her body and hung in her face, but she didn't seem to notice at all. She just kept crooning.

Miranda shuffled to the door, feeling as though she could be doing more to help her wounded friend, but knowing that making tea would be the best she could do for now. She couldn't help but turn around on her way to the door, however, and give a parting remark. "This is why men aren't good for anything. This is why I don't bother with relationships."

When she turned to leave, Courtney's sobs rang in her ears, and burning glares from Jeanette and Courtney seared into her cashmere-clad back.


End file.
